There are larger nights
Where suns dance away
    On western shores
Quieting creatures
Before they unleash
    Wild howls, primal roars
Where deep drink lovers
Tangle in easily
    And desire more
Where all is echoed
Nothing is mortal
Raw souls together
   Glimpse evermore

oh, you smart modern congregation
tell me, what exactly is stored in your barns?
how profound is thy soul’s ache for divine treasure?
is your instinctual compass correctly tuned?
does the tongue give life?
your own eye plank removed?
have you worked it out?
been filled with light?

or, do you remain crippled by fear?
deeply frightened by inconvenience?
fallen too deeply for your high security fortifications?

oh no! your growing paralysis returns!
and the rise of your stage presence
while exerting your home crafted gavel
on the holy observances of beer, curriculum, square footage, and service length
eroded by lofty incantations, stanzas of gibberish
perpetuating the operation of the institution
without a corner on truth, the convenient followers
indulging on driveways, bashing your empathy

let go of your systematic card house!
meditate on the
                other than
on your knees…let the soul cry!
beyond the void, illuminate anew
consider Creator, and the power of your dormant empathy
love love love
let it be re-written on your heart!

To the mothers pouring coffee
On mother's day
    In to-go cups
Handing them to half-awake dads
    Who take it to their co-parent
Still asleep
In between satin, down
    and flannel king size ambien sheets

To the mothers, who reason
This holiday to be their last
Summoning ancient strength
Yet again, at the end
    For their own

To the mothers
Who made plenty of mistakes
Who let their kids down
And somehow
Someway
Have swallowed all pride
To do their best, now

Thank you

This life-sacrifice IS seen
But is too often, too heavy
And holy
And sacred a thing
To speak about

A friend just survived
A terrific storm
Of great loss
It would not let up
Nor let her out
For months
    and months

And once subsided
Her mother
Then her father
    were lost

And her heart
Split
And some rawness came out
And some of what she was
    lost too

Perhaps that part will come back
But it's not so important
Because she now stands
As only one can stand
Who has looked this terrific storm
    in the eye
Who has ridden out such a storm
Who has seen
    The beast
But she still stands
Yes, she still stands

And the earth should know
It now has
A woman of terrific power
And terrific knowing
Walking on it

with that smile
let's skip the pleasantries --
take me to where your courage begins
and the fear that haunts
the shackles
    still carrying or falling away
tell me the story of the flower
    you saw today
and the decomposing tree
tell me of the butterflies
of the colors that penetrated your retina
    and made it's way through your body to please your skin
what are your thoughts and feelings
of the shameful practicality of architectural right angles?
how would you redesign the room that we're in?
or, would you rather
    burn it down
    and sit down
    in the dirt together?